


Behind Blue Eyes

by MiracoloDiGigi



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 15:11:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11129358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiracoloDiGigi/pseuds/MiracoloDiGigi
Summary: "The lights go out,It's just the three of us,You and me, and all the stuffWe're so scared of."— Bruce Springsteen, Tunnel of Love.





	Behind Blue Eyes

     It took three minutes for their worlds to come crashing down around them. Two goals in three minutes to crush all the work they'd put into this season; to crush their hopes and dreams of a Champions League title. And then the fourth came like adding salt into the wounds.

     This wasn't Leo's first final. Nor was it the first final of many of the players on the pitch today. They'd been here before. Some had even won before. But this? This was different. Juventus were in top form this season. They were undefeated. They'd conceded three goals in total throughout their Champions League campaign thus far. It truly boosted everyone's confidence. Absolutely everyone. It wasn't something the group that survived the 2015 final had had. This was a whole new feeling, and it was exhilarating. The bianconeri had gone to Cardiff with a hunger and desire to win like none other.

But, when Casemiro’s strike deflected off Sami and snuck into the lower right corner of Gigi's net, everything changed. It had left them stunned and almost confused, making way for the third goal. They should've done better. They should've done more. In both instances. But they were goals nonetheless. Bonucci could hear Ferrarini yelling at him for it already. Punching him in the stomach every time he so much as dared to lift his gaze. He was a warrior, Ferrarini made sure of that, but even then, he had a breaking point. That point came soon enough. By some sick twist of fate, in went the fourth goal. And just about every Juventino's heart shattered in that very moment.

The whistle had yet to blow, but the match was over.

Leo distinctly remembered looking back at his captain in that moment. The elder Italian sat on the ground, looking absolutely destroyed. In that moment, Leo had never seen the man so truly exhausted — not physically, but mentally. The way he sat right now made him seem human, which was sometimes hard to keep in mind when he continuously pulled off superhuman saves. It made Leo question Gigi’s intent. He knew what he wanted. To win the Champions League and complete his career. But, he'd reached three finals, and had walked away with two silver medals, a third soon to be added to that collection… Each time, nothing but heartache. Why did he keep going? What did he have left to prove? Champions League title or not, he was one of the most respected men in football and yet… He refused to give up on this competition. He was insane… And he admired every bit of it.

Leo wanted to go to his captain. Give him a hug. Reassure him that he couldn't have done anything. But, he found himself rooted to the spot. How he so desperately wished he was Alessandro Del Piero right now, the man who always seemed to comfort Gigi in these circumstances, no matter what, — he remembered watching Alex ran across the field to give Gigi a high five and reassure him that everything was alright, before running off again — but he was not that man. He felt like a coward, because he too was tired. He was tired of seeing his brothers in black and white succumb to defeats like this. They were so, so close… And, just like that, another title was slipping from their grasp. The most important title of all. There was nothing they could do about it now.

Those last forty-five minutes were probably some of the longest in his life.

     As far as he was concerned, the whole congratulations and ceremony after the match was a blur. He went to Gigi as soon as possible and embraced him, and the elder man pressed a kiss to his temple. “Later.” He spoke, before Leo could even open his mouth. They both knew what he was referring to. He then muttered something along the lines of “Go to Gonzalo.” And who was Leo to argue with his captain? He went to Gonzalo. He gave hugs and offered comfort and words of encouragement wherever it was due. Made sure nobody was too shaken up. Pipa was frustrated; he hadn’t been given even the slightest chance on net and felt as though he'd let the team down. Paulo was angry, too, but more so at himself. Andrea was brooding, no trace of the happy, ladybug saving gentle giant he was tonight. Giorgio seemed to be in disbelief, rubbing his head and trying to figure out how they’d fallen apart so quickly, as that wasn’t the Juve he knew; the Juve who fought to get back to the top from Serie B. The list just went on. Leo, himself, was just feeling relatively numb. He had to bite back tears a few times, and he wasn't ashamed to admit that, either. They received their medals. This was the second time in two years he'd walked past that trophy without getting his hands on it. And it made his stomach churn. He couldn't even keep his medal on — another fucking silver medal. For a moment, he was overcome with a mixture of pure rage and sadness all at once. Part of him wanted to shout, and part of him wanted to cry.

Ultimately, it was the latter part that won out.

He wound up at his captain's side again, like a lost puppy come a few moments, his head resting lightly against the crook of the elder Italian's neck and shoulder. Leo's eyes fell shut for a moment, and he inhaled his scent. The press made jokes and smart remarks about that, — how he had said he was lucky enough to breathe Gigi in — but they would never understand. They'd never understand how comforting it was, in moments like these. Ever since adorning the armband, Gigi had been the rock of this team. Even before then, when Alex wore the armband, Gigi clearly had all it took to be his successor. He had hardly even shed a tear tonight, despite being near his breaking point, himself. His calm and commanding presence was a comfort to all. And to Leo, who managed to experience Gigi in all his glory in more ways than one, breathing him in was part of that comfort.

Gigi was speaking to Allegri, ranting about something in quick Italian that was difficult for even a native Italian speaker to keep up with. His raspy voice from shouting all match didn't make matters any better. He was annoyed, and that was very clear. It seemed like he was almost used to this. Losing in the final. It had happened three times now, and at this point, he couldn’t even manage to shed a tear. It made Leo’s heart ache, knowing how many times the man had come so fucking close. Maybe the sadness would make itself apparent later, but he sincerely hoped it didn’t… An annoyed Gigi was ten times better than a heartbroken Gigi.

When the captain fell silent for a moment, and Allegri seemed to be distracted by something else, Leo took the opportunity. “One more year… One more chance. Don't leave us yet, old man. You'll get it.” The younger Italian remarked from where he was rested against Gigi's neck.

“I'm not going anywhere. Don't write me off just yet. A thousand more matches, remember?”

And both of them smiled. A strange phenomenon in these circumstances, but a smile nonetheless. Leo was glad he could get even that much out of the goalkeeper. It tended to be a rarity, nowadays. He was so hard on himself. They all were, but Gigi was much worse, because he knew he had a clock ominously hanging over his head. He felt like he could go on forever, and he wanted to do so… But, for now, that clock showed the end of his footballing career as being next year.

     The locker room seemed like a whole new world now. What was once filled with so much passion and excitement just over ninety minutes ago was now filled with disappointment and regret, with tension so thick you could slice through it with a knife. Not much was said. Showers were taken in silence, between the occasional murmur of conversation. Nobody was really in the mood to talk. Some of the boys were late to return to the locker room, too. Gigi was one of them. He was probably doing some sort of interview, but Leo truly didn't care to know. Before the captain had even tended to himself, he was making his rounds. He had already spoken to the majority of them out on the pitch, but it was different in front of the cameras. In here, there was a whole different attitude about Gigi, so to speak. He was good at that; looking after his teammates like he was their father. There were words of encouragement and hugs and kisses all around as he spoke to each man. By the time he was through, while the disappointment remained, things felt a little bit better. And Leo couldn't help but stare at the captain as he made those rounds, captivated by him. Everything he did was so amazing, it truly left the defender in awe of him each and every time. He was a legend, in every sense of the word.

But, as Gigi made his way to the shower, and Leo caught a glimpse of him, he could see how heavily this was weighing on his shoulders. He saw the pain in his eyes; those bright blue eyes that rarely ever held anything other than happiness. The annoyance was gone, and the disappointment and sadness was setting in.

Right then and there did he decide what he needed to do.

     They returned to the hotel and went off to their separate rooms without much more conversation. The bus ride back felt like hours, and it was going to be a long night, probably with plenty more tears. Gigi was prepared to deal with it, too. How could he sleep after a match like this? He would undoubtedly be up all night, running through scenarios in his head. What he could've done better. What might have been. It was dangerous to dream, but, then again, he figured he could afford to do so right now.  
Once in the safety of his own room, the captain let out a long, relatively shaky sigh as he undressed and prepared for bed.

Now that he was alone, he could let the facade fall. The facade of being the strong leader who looked after his teammates before himself, especially in the worst circumstances. But, even then… There were no tears. There was a dull ache in his chest, an ache that could only be described as disappointment. Absolute, gut wrenching, disappointment. And nothing more. For a moment, his eyes burned. He wanted to cry. Desperately. He wanted something other than this disappointment and numbness, but he didn't get it. Instead, the ache remained in his chest. It made him feel like he was short of breath. He focused his blank gaze on the wall opposite him as a hand rubbed at his chest, maintaining his slow, even breathing, willing himself to calm down, and eventually he managed it, though not with ease. He tried to focus his mind on other things, but everything led back to tonight. The third Champions League final in his career. His third silver medal. The third time he'd come so close he could taste victory before letting the opportunity slip through his grasp. This was supposed to be their year. They had had an unbelievable run. Almost the entire footballing world was rooting for them. Rooting for him. He had received so much support in the days leading up to the match, it was unreal. So many people wishing him luck - fans and footballers alike, even legends - and expressing their beliefs that Juventus would win the Champions League and he the Ballon d'Or. The latter prize didn’t matter to him. The Ballon d’Or was an individual award, and he wasn’t one to boast about such an achievement. The team was what mattered. He wanted the Champions League, not just to complete his highly decorated career, but to bring glory back to Juventus. Back to Italy. To make it clear that Serie A as a whole was finally making it’s comeback after the Calciopoli over a decade ago. But, he’d failed. And he felt as though he had personally let down each and every person out there who had put their trust in him. Four goals out of five shots on target… What the hell was he doing out there? He had conceded four goals in one game. That was more goals than he'd conceded in the entire campaign leading up until the final. He was ashamed of himself. If only he'd positioned himself better, reacted faster, jumped further… just maybe would he have made the difference. Maybe he could've tipped a ball around the post and brought forth a whole new motivation for Juventus to play for. But, he hadn't. He, instead, conceded four goals. Four goals in five attempts.

And, God, did this loss hurt.

He’d lost track of how long he’d been laying here, wallowing in self-hatred when he heard a key enter the doorknob to his room. He knew who it was before the man had even entered the room; none other than Leonardo Bonucci. They’d done this several times, now; getting together after matches. At first, it was rather harmless. It began with Leo, among the rest of his teammates, visiting him after the surgery on his back, as he was confined to a bed. Then, the defender began to come around alone. He’d hang around longer. He’d stop by more and more often. And it progressively became something more, but neither of them were about to complain, either. When he had simply said “Later” to him earlier, this was what he was referring to.

As the defender entered, he was quiet and cautious. He didn’t know if Gigi was asleep or not, and if he was, he didn’t want to wake him. He knew how hard it was for the goalkeeper to get to sleep after a match like this. Slowly but surely, he kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed with Gigi. Tonight, he was going to be the big spoon. And that was fine with him. His arms snaked around Gigi very carefully, and it was then that he realized the elder man was still awake.

“Can’t sleep?” He asked softly, nosing against the back of Gigi’s head ever so gently, and taking yet another second to just breathe him in.

Gigi shook his head, and moved one of his hands to cover Leo’s, directing his gaze to their hands as well. It was a pleasant change from the wall across from him. He absentmindedly stroked his thumb over the tattoos on the defender’s fingers as he responded. “Are you surprised?” His voice was less raspy now, and he wasn’t being rude or sarcastic as he responded. In fact, his voice held little to no emotion all, in that statement.

Leo shook his head. He didn’t really know what he was expecting, to be honest. Part of him was hoping Gigi would be asleep. God knew he needed it. But, he knew better to even expect that. It was never the case. It certainly wouldn't be after what had happened tonight. After a few absentminded kisses at the back of Gigi’s neck, Leo shifted slightly to rest his head against the crook of his neck again, and that was where he remained, his hold tight and protective on his captain. He didn’t have anything else to say, and he didn’t think anything he could’ve said would be of much use, anyways. Words couldn’t fix what had happened tonight. Hell, he didn’t even think his affection would help, but as long as Gigi wasn’t pushing him away, he would continue like this.

The silence was long and drawn out, but calming to say the very least. Gigi was comfortable in Leo's warm embrace — he loved that Leo was so fiercely protective of his teammates, and of him especially. It was odd in the sense that he felt like a child cowering into his guardian's safe embrace; he was the elder one, the captain, the fearless leader, but with this man, things were different. He didn't mind that he was made to feel so small and childish compared to Leo because he did feel safer like this. Being in the defender’s arms made him feel like things would be okay, even if the sting after tonight's loss would remain for some time. One thing wouldn't change, no matter the circumstances, though. The feelings they had for each other.

“Do you think we'll ever win it, Leone?” Gigi finally broke the silence, his voice uncharacteristically quiet for a change. He didn't need to elaborate. He knew the other man would understand.

“Of course, Gigi.” He didn't hesitate for even so much as a second. There was a certain cockiness and determination to his tone that arguably came due to his age. But Gigi enjoyed it. “Next year’ll be our year. Fourth time’s the charm.” As the words were spoken, the defender couldn't help but smile, eyes squinting and nose scrunching up a bit as he did so, before pressing his smile into the crook of Gigi's neck.

However, Gigi wasn't as pleased with his response. He pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows as blue hues studied the wall across from him again. “This year was supposed to be our year.” He retorted, giving the defender's hands a squeeze without even thinking about it; it still hurt to admit that out loud. That they'd blown this chance. This once in a lifetime chance. “We blew the best shot we've ever had. I'm… angry.”

Noting his tone and the fact that his usual cocky little remarks did nothing to help, Leo immediately reverted back to speaking in all seriousness. Gigi was more complicated than anyone he had ever know. There wasn't any one way of going about dealing with him. He had to try different things as he went along and gauge the elder man's reaction sometimes. This was one of them. His brows furrowed as well, as he angled his head a bit more so that he could study Gigi's features. He had said he was angry, but his expression said otherwise. And that was one thing Leo was good at; reading his captain's expressions.

His hold tightened on Gigi, and for a moment, he was silent, wondering how he was to go about this. He ultimately decided on his usual blunt approach, though; “You're afraid… Not angry.” He explained, interlocking Gigi's fingers. “Afraid you'll miss out on this… Afraid you'll, let me guess… Let us down? Let the fans down?”

And sometimes Leo was too smart for his own good, because, judging by the lack of response from the elder Italian… he was right. Among his teammates, — especially Gigi, Barzagli, Chiellini, and Marchisio, the crowd he usually hung around with — he was the typical “kid”; loud and brash. But, even so, he was anything but ignorant and oblivious. He did know how to read Gigi. He knew how to be sensitive, too.

Slowly, the defender tugged on Gigi's shoulder gently, urging him to turn around so that he was facing him. There wasn't much protest from the other man, so they were met face to face rather quickly. He immediately noticed the hurt and disappointment in those blue eyes, and it rendered him speechless. He had wanted to talk to him; remind him that he was Superman for a reason. Sometimes he had to do that, because Gigi was so damn critical of himself, but when he went to open his mouth to speak, he came up empty. Nothing was going to fix this. He knew that full well. So, he was silent. He held Gigi's gaze, and brought his hands up to rest against his cheeks as he did so. It was yet another long, drawn out silence that seemed never-ending. At least until he spoke up.

“I'm afraid, too.” His own voice sounded foreign to his own ears, but he was well aware of what he had just said.

He brought Gigi's head forward so that it was resting comfortably against his chest, while his fingers slowly carded through the elder Italian's dark locks, scratching at the nape of his neck. It drew a contented sigh from him, which provided the defender with some relief for the time being.

And so they lay, curled up together in Gigi's hotel room yet another time this month. Only, this time their reasonings were different. It ultimately would've been something they would have liked to avoid, but life had a funny way of twisting things around. It had tonight, through this loss. A loss that would likely weigh heavily on their shoulders forever, but ultimately a loss they could learn from as well.

They'd come back stronger next year. They'd train and fight like no tomorrow just like they had, this year. But, that wasn't what either of them needed to hear tonight. What they needed was this.

To lay together, in the safety and serenity the darkness provided, just the three of them; Leo, Gigi, and their fears.

**Author's Note:**

> I read a Gigi/Leo fanfic and I thought it was a strange ship at first, but it's just really stuck with me, and after the CL final... Well, I needed to vent, so. Ta da. 
> 
> Yes, the title is inspired by the song Behind Blue Eyes behind Limp Bizkit.


End file.
